


Beyond Repentance

by stpitbull



Series: I'm Really Sorry, Colonel Hsu [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stpitbull/pseuds/stpitbull





	Beyond Repentance

All it took was the courier's journal to bring the Mojave crashing down on itself.   
  
Months of trotting hither and yon, making himself known wherever he went, surviving battle after battle and escaping all suspicion, and the goddamn courier gets killed in in a quarry, battling more deathclaws than he could handle in a stupid bid for glory.   
  
His body was recovered, his unique personal armory haggled and bid over, and then the journal was recovered. A slim, red, leather-bound book full of meticulous notes in neat, square handwriting, detailing how the courier had managed to get on every faction's good side, made himself a sort of celebrity with men and women of power, strengthened and hurt each side so that they could die out fighting each other. And not even to gain anything for himself. Only out of a love of chaos.   
  
The quarry workers who had found his body had quickly had the little red book sent to McCarren, where the individual journal entries could be dissected. Records of mutilating a man named Benny in his own bed. Of locating and rendering Mr. House into a vegetable. Of obliterating a Securitron called "Yes Man" with C-4. Of blowing up the monorail with the assistance of a Legion informant within McCarran.   
  
It had been like being in a wind tunnel, hearing the report. James couldn't believe it, probably  _still_  wouldn't have believed it, would have remained starry-eyed and lovestupid, if Ron hadn't tried to run. He'd successfully killed two troopers and injured four more in his escape attempts before Boyd had coldcocked him with the butt of her rifle, getting him dragged into the cell that the centurion Silus used to occupy.   
  
"He's more useful alive," she had been saying to James, to the colonel, like the colonel was here right now. "He's clearly the most slippery bastard we've ever dealt with, but we need to try and get some more information out of him."   
  
James had nodded mutely. Given her the go-ahead. She was so in control. He just needed some air, more than he could stand.   
  
He came back a few minutes later to see Boyd was still waiting for him. "Don't trust myself to hold back with this one," she explained. "Too personal. Need you to be the angel on my shoulder if I give in and get rough."   
  
James watched Boyd saunter into the room, the little red journal in her hands and ice in her eyes. "Well, well -- Picus, is it?" she drawled effortlessly. "Goodness, you think you know someone. Care to explain yourself?"   
  
"I don't have to explain anything to you, profligate  _bitch_ ."   
  
Blood roared in James' ears as he watched more than listened, feeling a crushing weight in his chest every time he caught a good look at the hard set in Ron's-- _Picus'_  eyes. He registered deafly as Picus said something that earned him a hard smack across the face from Boyd, and James tapped on the window. Boyd looked over at him, clearly disappointed, before disengaging and leaving the cell.   
  
"Sorry," she blatantly lied.

James took the journal from her hands and said he'd take over. He ordered that no one, even she, could stay and watch.   
  
Boyd furrowed her brow. "Sir, I--"   
  
"That's a direct order," he said, and watched the room clear. He walked into the cell.   
  
He stood across from where Picus sat bound, steeling himself and willing the pounding ache in his chest to go away. It was remarkable, really. The way he could look exactly the same but James could tell that he was dealing with an entirely different man.   
  
"So," James said evenly, flipping through the pages of the red journal. "About our independent contractor. How long had the two of you been in contact?" Picus just stared at him silently, cold and detached. "Because according to these logs, he met you shortly after killing the captured centurion. The one who used to sit where you're sitting."   
  
"Silus," Picus said coolly, in a way James had never heard it. "He was a fool not to follow Caesar's law upon capture."   
  
"Sort of like yourself?" James offered.   
  
"I merely lack the means, given that the lieutenant had me bound," Picus approximated a shrug. "If you loosen my bonds, Colonel, I assure you I would remedy that. After dealing with you."   
  
"You would still die for Caesar? Even after the courier killed him?"   
  
"Just because my master's mortal form is gone does not mean I am disloyal," Picus said easily. "I have done many unpleasant things to serve Caesar. The least of which was you."   
  
A cold twist lanced James' core and he pressed forward. "You still haven't answered my question."   
  
Picus sighed. "The day you sent the traitor to speak to me was the first time I had met him."   
  
"The night of the monorail bombing," Hsu said. "Yes. The night you said you loved me."   
  
"Don't take it personally," Pius shrugged. "But the part about meeting him then is at least true."   
  
"And you didn't suspect that he would simply turn you in to me?" James said, closing the journal and folding his arms. "You trusted that much that he was Legion?"   
  
"I trusted that you would favor my word over his," Picus said smoothly, something of a sharp glint of satisfaction in his eye that made James feel like he needed more air.   
  
"Any clue why he would do this?" James asked, voice even.   
  
"Is there nothing in your little lifeline there to fill you in?" Picus asked, nodding at the journal.   
  
"Just the ramblings of a madman."   
  
"Well, everyone has an agenda. Even you. Why don't we discuss what you got out of me, Colonel?"

The discord between looking at the face his heart still associated with the man he loved and the cruelty of the frumentarius he was dealing with mingled together in James' chest to create a mean little storm. "I don't believe you're picking our topics of discussion, Picus."   
  
"Why not? Isn't it a valid one? True, I served the Legion in my role here, but did I not also provide you with a service?"   
  
"That's not what it was to me and you know it," James said quietly through his constricting throat before he could stop himself.   
  
"Oh, I know to what I am referring. Sexual release is only one of the baser human needs I supplied you with. I provided you with security. With an emotional grounding. With-- what was that sentimental way you put it one night? 'Something worth fighting for'?"   
  
"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish," James said from somewhere outside himself. "But all you're doing is showing your weakness. Silus was the same way."   
  
"I am nothing like that coward," Picus said darkly. "Release me and I'll show you."   
  
"I think you've shown me enough for the day," James said, turning to leave.   
  
"I knew you couldn't do it," Picus said as he left the cell.   
  
He heard the door close behind him and dug the heel of his palm into one of his eyes, taking a deep breath against the storm ravaging inside him. He needed to get outside, walk the court, maybe take a turn on the unarmed training dummy. A long turn. He just needed to feel something other than this.   
  
Out of the corner of his vision he saw Boyd standing there, with her arms crossed, looking into the cell at Ron. Picus.   
  
"I gave you a direct order, Lieutenant," James said wearily.   
  
Boyd glanced at him, something softer in her expression than he had ever seen. "I wasn't gonna tell you this," she said, looking back into the cell, "but he said he loved me, too."


End file.
